


Lockdown (Your Heart)

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: Gobmas 2020 [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Lost Girl Fusion, Angst and Feels, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s01e07 Q&A, Feral Malcolm Bright, Idiots in Love, Incubus Malcolm Bright, Incubus Martin Whitly, Lost Girl fusion, M/M, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel Friendship, Miscommunication, Older Man/Younger Man, Protective Gil Arroyo, Protectiveness, Requited Unrequited Love, Siren Ainsley Whitly, Succubi & Incubi, Werewolf Gil Arroyo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: The longer Malcolm goes without contacting him, the more worried Gil becomes.---This is a fusion with the show Lost Girl. Although you don't need to watch it to understand the fic, you should read the other fic in this series first or you'll be confused! This piece takes place after chapter three of Sexual Healing but should be read after the entirety of the first fic.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: Gobmas 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037802
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	Lockdown (Your Heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KateSamantha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateSamantha/gifts).



> Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaate~! I imagine you probably gave up on me updating this series... _surprise, bitch, it's Sexual Healing again_. I love you ;3 <3<3<3<3
> 
> This starts out with some Gil POV, hence why I think it's best to read all of Sexual Healing first.

Gil is not his keeper. 

Hell, he’s barely even his friend anymore, going by the way their last encounter went. He knows this, he knows that Malcolm can do what he wants, that he isn’t Gil’s employee, not really. The only person Malcolm might listen to is the Ash. _Might_. There’s a decent chance he’ll just leave the city instead, set up some kind of video visitation if he wishes.

Gil’s pretty sure the Ash isn’t planning on ordering the incubus to cut ties to his father anyway. Why would he? The Ash is a smart man. He understands the way Malcolm works. He can see that doing so would only result in losing an asset, and, while that sounds callous, it’s the truth. Malcolm Bright is the eldest of the youngest generation of Miltons. He has ruling blood flowing through his veins. He’s strong. Educated. Compassionate. Regardless of the scandal Martin brought with him, there are some in the community who still respect the Milton name — a name Malcolm is unknowingly reviving. He’ll become an important player if he stays in New York long enough. 

Plus, Malcolm is oddly endearing. Gil knows it. He’s watched enough people change their minds about him, his own detectives included, and the Ash is no different. There’s something about the way the man interacts with Malcolm that pings his instincts. 

The Ash is _fond_ of Malcolm. Genuinely likes having him around. Ergo, as long as it’s reasonably safe to do so, he won’t be prohibiting Malcolm from seeing Martin. 

His word is law as far as Gil is concerned. It doesn’t matter that Gil is one of his more respected agents in the community — he’ll not be happy if the werewolf raises a fuss about this. 

That doesn’t mean Gil can’t be frustrated about it. And, _boy_ , is he frustrated. Malcolm went to see Martin about the Junkyard Killer, which is important, but it’s been over an hour now without a word. As stilted as their last meeting was, he knows Malcolm wouldn’t ignore him when it comes to a case. He just probably won’t contact Gil for anything more personal, not for a long time yet. 

Possibly never again, if Gil continues to torture himself by feeding him. 

It wouldn’t have crossed his mind years ago. As a child, Malcolm’s powers manifested in a way that was charming rather than seductive. Not that Gil wouldn’t have cared for him regardless, of course. It changed the older he got. Gil could see the change in him. Could see his body shaping itself into something sleek and alluring. Could see the way his charm gained a lustful edge. He was branching out, learning to take care of his needs, and beginning to need the powers his nature lended him. 

And Gil, as much as he thought he’d never look at him that way, couldn’t help but notice. It was easy to brush off, thankfully, at least while he was with Jackie. She knew about it. She noticed it herself — both his attention and Malcolm’s changes — and didn’t let him guilt himself about it. 

When she died, Gil didn’t think about it. Malcolm couldn’t make the funeral, but, looking back, he’s sure he wouldn’t have seen anything other than a friendly face. 

A friendly face that wouldn’t even _look_ at him the last time they were in the same room. One that turned away and held his words back as Gil took care of him as gently as he could. One whose parting words sounded utterly broken. 

Gil did that, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive himself. He buries his face in his hands, all alone in his office, trying to forget the hot clench of Malcolm’s body and the distance of his spirit. 

His cell phone rings. 

_Malcolm_ lights up across the screen.

“Hey, kid,” Gil says, going for as casual as possible, still shaking off the images running through his mind. “What did he say?”

“Nothing yet.” There’s a pause, and he can practically see Malcolm biting his lip. “We’re in lockdown.”

His heart lurches. He knows the protocols at Claremont, having familiarized himself with them as soon as Jessica started bringing Malcolm there as a child. Even with Martin drugged up on medication to suppress his abilities, his guard is fae. Malcolm is fae. Ainsley is fae. They’ll be safe as long as the threat isn’t locked in the room with them. 

Knowing it doesn’t stop the urge to protect that skitters up his spine. 

“Everything shut down a minute ago,” Malcolm continues. “I’m not sure what’s going on, and Mr. David hasn’t been able to get ahold of anyone yet.”

The casing on his phone creaks in his hand. Gil takes a deep breath. “I’ll see if I can talk to the warden and get back to you.” He’s up on his feet and calling his detectives in before the connection is even cut. 

Dani eyes him warily. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s been an incident at Claremont,” Gil says tersely. “I need the two of you to try contacting the warden to find out what’s going on.”

“Bright’s there, isn’t he?” The look on JT’s face is hard to read — or, at least, it would be, if he wasn’t an established member of Gil’s pack. He’s just as concerned as Gil is. Just as stricken. 

Gil grits his teeth and nods. “Get to it. I’ll be back.”

If they can’t get through to him, there’s one person he knows can.

The Ash is between meetings. “Gil.” His voice is pleasant, his face expectant. “I didn’t think you were due to report until the weekend.”

Gil cuts to the chase. “I received a call from Malcolm earlier. Claremont is on lockdown.”

“I know.” The Ash leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. “I forbid you from stepping in.”

“What?” Gil snarls. His teeth are sharp in his mouth, something truly animalistic in the way the word comes out. 

His mate — his _pack_ is in danger. Every single cell in his body is screaming for him to go find him and save him, order or no. 

There shouldn’t be any problem getting into Claremont. Although not all of the patients are fae, they’re all connected, in some way, to the light fae. All of the therapists and guards are trusted members of the community. The warden himself is a good friend of the Ash. The decision to send Martin there was a calculated one, one they had to make in light of how public his crimes were. They couldn’t send him to a more fortified prison, to one off the map as far as normal humans are concerned. It had to be a public yet fae-controlled place. 

The Ash looks at him flatly. “I like you, Gil, and so I’ll give you another try.”

It makes him gnash his teeth, but even with as angry as he is, he can see the leeway he’s being given. “Claremont handles fae business. Why can’t I go in now?”

“The culprit is human,” the Ash says simply. “A man the facility took in as a boy out of respect for his parents.” And that really is all he needs to say. The man’s parents must have been claimed by someone high up, if not the Ash himself. It means he probably doesn’t know about fae himself.

Regardless of his mental state, fae rules prohibit unclaimed humans from knowing about them. 

Gil slams his fist down on the desk, holding a hand up in submission after. “I’m sorry,” he grits out.

“As am I.” The Ash gives him a sympathetic look. “You and I both know Malcolm Bright is a smart one. Tevin Standish is no match for him.” He pulls a file from his drawer and slides it across the desk. “I trust you can pass this information on?”

When Malcolm wanders out into the halls with the camera, the first and foremost thought in his mind is that Ainsley better know what she’s doing. 

It isn’t advisable to get involved with a merman. If the way she broke down at his injury is any indication, they’ve known each other for some time already, and she knows just as well as he does that merpeople only get one year with legs. Stab wound or not, meeting with Martin Whitly aside, that relationship is destined to end in tragedy. 

(Malcolm very pointedly does _not_ think about his own relationship issues.)

His second thought is that he has to be careful. Tevin is human. 

So, when they cross paths in the halls, he lets a charming smile spread across his face. His body relaxes. He stands tall but loose. “Tevin, do you have a moment to talk to New York Direct News?”

The human man steps forward, excited. “Y-yes!”

There’s a very familiar haze in his eyes.

Malcolm sets the camera down on the floor. “May I approach? I need to see if we should get makeup in.”

Tevin nods quickly. “Of course!”

Tilting his head up, Malcolm confirms his suspicion. This is the work of another incubus — and there’s only one incubus at Claremont. He lets go of him. He talks a calm walk around him. Before Tevin can get impatient, he strikes. 

So much of Gil’s energy is still coursing through him. It takes barely any time at all to knock the man out. Malcolm secures him and takes the camera back to his father’s cell. “Mr. David, you can call security and inform them Tevin is unconscious in the hall.” He turns to his father and sister, the two of them smiling at each other as Jin breathes on the floor between them. “You’ve lost your edge, Dr. Whitly. That was a sloppy job you did.”

His father gives him an innocent stare. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, my boy.”

And _fuck_ if Malcolm doesn’t want to believe him. He knows better, however, and the awful sinking feeling he’s come to associate with his father is back just as strong as ever, souring in his stomach. He shakes his head and takes a step forward. “I need you to tell me his name before they realize you’re behind this.”

Ainsley takes an unconscious step back. “Behind what?”

“All of this,” Malcolm says grimly. “Tevin was under the effects of an incubus allure. Guess how many incubi call Claremont home?”

Martin laughs. “That’s _ridiculous_. When would I have had the opportunity to use my allure? They have me on some very special medication, you know.”

Security interrupts them. 

Of course, he doesn’t get that name. 

Gil approaches him with stiff shoulders and a cautious look in his eyes. “Are you okay?” 

He isn’t. Not by a long shot, but physically, he’s in perfect shape. “I don’t need to feed tonight,” Malcolm assures him, barely looking at him, before grabbing a taxi back to his loft. 

He doesn’t think he can handle a pity fuck right now. He’s too raw to go poking at his wounds, to bare himself and let new cuts slot between the old, festering ones. 

He needs space.

(He’ll need Gil soon enough. Maybe as soon as tomorrow.) 


End file.
